


Éinín—Quiet Moments

by crewdlydrawn



Series: Éinín [3]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddles, M/M, Short, Smoking, Tumblr: fandomwritingchallenge, fandomwritingchallenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 13:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11314458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crewdlydrawn/pseuds/crewdlydrawn
Summary: John likes the relative quiet of a rooftop, a good spot to smoke and think.When Bane joins him in the space, his priorities shift for the moment.**For June 2017's Fandom Writing Challenge on tumblr.





	Éinín—Quiet Moments

**Author's Note:**

> [Set during Part II]

It wasn't their spot, not normally.  On any other night, even the clearest, with the almost-stars that peeked their way through city smog, Barsad would have been on the rooftop of their apartment building with John, slender, sculpted arms around his barely smaller frame.  There were certain things that they shared, times and places, moments and actions, and those things were theirs.

Each of his dads had their own ways of spending time with him.  The things that belonged to Bane were different.  Usually.

"Is this all you do up here?"

A freshly lit cigarette nearly dropped from John's fingers ten stories over the roof's ledge.  As it was, the lighter he'd just allowed to extinguish left his grasp and clattered onto the fire escape below him.  _Shit_ , loosed inside his mind, cringing at the ridiculousness of being startled into letting the object go.

"Language," chided the filtered baritone of Bane's voice.  Apparently the curse hadn't been as far inside of John's head as he'd thought.

The cringe deepened.  "Sorry."

Face tilted outward, aimed at the glow and bustle of the cityscape, Bane walked over to stand to John's right, braced arm set along the retaining wall.  "You are up here most nights."

"Yeah."  Both arms bent over the wall, John dragged one hand's fingers along the textured cement.  "It's calming, I guess."  A low rumble from beside him sounded Bane's agreement with his view.  "Did you guys have a place like this while you were gone?"

Two years was a long time, and even if they hadn't stayed in the same place for all of the time they were away from Gotham—and John was pretty sure they hadn't—it might have been hard to find good, quiet spots.  He knew they both needed the stillness, just like he did.

Bane was quiet for several moments, maybe considering John's question, maybe just taking in the sounds of the city, the lights, the crisp air as much as it came through the filters of his mask.  "Not always," he began, fingers tapping the top of the wall.

Shuffling his feet to the side, John leaned his weight against Bane, only to get a light _thwap_ to his bottom.  "What?" he questioned, surprised and looking up at Bane's face.

"You may smoke the cigarette if you wish, but cuddling must wait until after you finish."

Well _that_ didn't seem fair.

Brows pinched up in the center, utter betrayal in their bent, John stared up at Bane's unyielding expression.  "So... smoke it _or_ touch you?"

An uncovered hand lifted to brace John's cheek, thumb pressing at the swell of the bone, fingers lining his jaw, a familiar pressure.  "It is not as if I will simply leave, little bird."  Great, he was being amusing in his neediness.  "But I do not enjoy stewing myself in smoke as the two of you are fond of doing."

John's nose wrinkled, and he caught himself, realizing with an inward smile that Barsad would likely have done the same, in reply.  He had a choice to make.  And though he deliberated for several quiet moments, it was a very easy decision.

Taking one last drag from the filter, tapping the ashes it created over the edge of the wall, John stubbed the cigarette out against the outer surface, tucking the spent butt to the side, where he had a can for empties.

Tiny flakes of burned-up paper and leaf were still floating out of sight along the night's breeze as John tucked himself into Bane's arms, his frame enveloped by muscle and care.

"It's fine," his voice came muffled to his ears and through his head, his face half-buried in the upper arm of Bane's coat, "I'd rather the cuddle, any day."


End file.
